


Third Base

by Xelaric_the_Nobody



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: ???? they make out lot, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baseball Innuendos, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky is basically an angsty teen in adult form, Bucky teaches automechanics, Bucky thinks Steve is married but nuh uhhhhh, Everyone in the faculty ships Stucky its ridiculous, Fluff and Angst, High school teachers AU, Mild Smut, Multi, Mutual Pining, Steve is a history teacher/baseball coach, just tagging it just in case, yeeeeaaaahhhh kiddos buckle up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6824428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xelaric_the_Nobody/pseuds/Xelaric_the_Nobody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's ridiculous how obvious it is that Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes have mutual crushes on each other. The faculty ships it, the students ship it, hell, the teachers from other schools ship it. However, Bucky can't seem to bring himself to tell Steve just how much he likes him. Because of that god damned silver band on his ring finger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! This is my first MCU fic and I'm kinda nervous about how it'll turn out haha.
> 
> Just a side note, Bucky DOES NOT have his prosthetic (yet. MWAHAHAHAHA).

The bell signaling the end of ninth period rang, and all the students in Steve’s ninth period class haphazardly packed up their things and bolted for the door. He, too, had to be on his way because baseball season was upon the private school, and he had a team to coach. Steve, however, took a bit more time than usual packing up because of his hopes of seeing one particular auto mechanic teacher.

Ever since Marvelle Academy had come back from winter break, every so often, James Buchanan Barnes would come to Steve’s classroom (on the complete opposite side of the building, he might add) after the bell for ninth period rang. Bucky, as Steve started to call him, would usually come with some sort of history book in his hands that he had bought for Steve. The blond was always surprised at the gesture, even though at this point Bucky had bought him three other books. Steve thought it was endearing.

As if the thought of it summoned him, Bucky knocked on the open door with yet another book in his hand. Steve gestured him in, and the brunet pushed his long bangs out of his face. His outfit today wasn’t much different than on any other given day; he wore a t-shirt that was splattered with grease and oil as were his loosely fitting jeans. The ends of his jeans were lazily tucked into his work boots, and his long hair was messily thrown into a knot at the back of his head. Steve looked up at his face and couldn’t help but grin; the idiot had a streak of oil smudged on his cheek. Bucky’s blue eyes were framed with dark lashes, and Steve watched as they darted away from his as the brunet held out the book to him.

“ _Another_ book?” Steve asked in genuine surprise. “Bucky, you really don’t have to—”

“It was nothing really,” he cut the blond off. “I saw it while I was out this weekend, and I was pretty sure you didn’t have this one yet, so I grabbed it for you.”

Steve looked down at it—it was _The Book Thief_ by Markus Zusak. _Another_ World War II era novel. The blond chuckled as he set it down on his desk. “Thanks, Buck. I appreciate it, but you really don’t have to keep getting me books. Admittedly, World War two is my favorite topic to teach but seriously. You don’t have to go out of your way to get me these books you know.”

Bucky played with the frayed end of his shirt sleeve and grinned. “Alright, alright, fine. No more books for Steve Rogers ‘cause he’s too good for them.”

“Aw, c’mon I didn’t say it like that—” Steve chuckled and then caught a glance at the clock on the wall above Bucky’s head. “Ah, crap I’m going to be late. We’re up against Xavier’s today.” Steve made a face that betrayed his worry about the outcome of the game. Bucky rolled his eyes playfully and punched Steve lightly in the shoulder.

“I’m sure you guys will do fine,” he turned as the blond made his way around Bucky. Steve stopped for a moment, opening his mouth to ask if the brunet was going to watch the game, but clamped his mouth shut. Why would Bucky want to watch the game anyways? Marvelle Academy’s baseball team sucked and everyone in the _state_ knew it. Bucky wouldn’t have cared to see the state’s worst team play.

“Steve? Were you going to say something?” Bucky called out, snapping him out of his thoughts. Steve looked over his shoulder at him and gave him a wave.

“Oh, nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

 

To put it lightly, Marvelle Academy’s baseball team was no match for the team from Xavier Institute. However, no matter how shit the team was, Bucky went to all the home games. For the most part, parents and younger siblings of the players would be sitting in the stands; occasionally, another teacher would be there, but usually Bucky was the only one. He probably really should have been grading projects for his introductory class, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity of seeing Steven Grant Rogers in a polo and a stupid baseball cap.

So, Bucky sat at the top of the bleachers, distanced from the parents and the younger siblings. He bit his lower lip as he watched the blond behind the face that separated the batter and the umpire from the rest of the team on the bench. Although he was at quite a distance, Bucky could tell that Steve was frustrated and rightfully so. Bucky was pretty sure they hadn’t won a game since the beginning of the prior school year. It had been the first game of the season.

And as the batter struck out, the brunet saw Steve hit his forehead against the chain link fence and felt as if he could hear him sigh even across the field. They had just lost. Again.

The boys on the Xavier Institute team cheered, as they had beat Marvelle 12-2. The boys from the Academy, with shoulders slumped, lined up to half-heartedly high five the boys from the other team. The parents in the stands began to disperse and make their way to the parking lot. Bucky rose to his feet as well, and began making his way to the dugout.

Steve was just finishing his spiel to the team as Bucky walked up; Steve was saying something cheesy about how losing wasn’t the worst thing in the world. The boys rose to their feet and trudged their way back to the locker room, tossing surprised glances at Bucky as they passed. He knew some of the boys on the team as they were in his class. However, they walked by him without saying a word. Steve turned in his direction, but didn’t seem to notice Bucky. The blond was buried in the papers on his clipboard so Bucky took a step closer. Steve looked up.

“Oh!” he said in surprise. The blond’s blue eyes seemed to light up, but Bucky was for sure that it was just his imagination. “Didn’t expect you to come see the game. Turns out you were wrong. We lost again. Not like that was much of a surprise.”

Bucky shrugged. “You can’t win ‘em all, Cap. Besides, I don’t think _anyone_ has beaten Xavier’s. I’m pretty sure they’ve had an undefeated season.”

“I guess so,” Steve shrugged a shoulder as he picked up his binder of plays. “But it’d be nice to win a game. Or at least tie.”

The two started walking back towards the school together in comfortable silence. Then, Bucky thought of something that tugged his lips up at the corners. He glanced up at Steve.

“How about I make a deal with you, Mr. Rogers?” The brunet smirked as he looked up at Steve.

“What kind of deal?” The blond inquired, sounding wary.

Bucky stopped for a moment. “If the team loses their next home game, _you_ , Mr. Rogers, have to take me out for coffee one day.”

At this, Steve raised an eyebrow, in either surprise or question, Bucky didn’t know. The blond folded his arms across his chest, his well-muscled arms looking _unfairly_ attractive in his polo. Bucky worried his lower lip, wondering if he had overstepped his boundaries. He panicked for a split second.

Steve smirked as he looked back up at him, and all the air left Bucky’s lungs. “And if the team wins?”

The brunet blinked dumbly. “Uh,” he said intelligently. “That’s—that’s up to you. What are you gonna wager?”

“If the team wins the next home game…” Steve started. He stood there for a moment, thinking. Bucky was pretty sure the blond wouldn’t ask for something so selfish like a date. He’d probably make him run perimeters around the school with the team during practice. Something stupid like that.

However, Steve Rogers could be full of surprises.

“If the team wins the next home game, then you have to take me out to dinner.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up as soon as he registered what Steve had said. His heart raced in his chest as he stared dumbly at the slightly smug expression on the blond’s face. _Say something, you idiot_ , he urged himself.

To his surprise, his voice was steady when he replied. “Then we have ourselves a deal.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha ships it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I was really surprised by the feedback for the first chapter, so I finished this one ASAP!! Sorry for the possible awkwardness/choppiness, I'm still planning out the story and what kind of writing I'm using for it. Enjoy!

Steve _really_ needed the baseball team to win the next home game.

Tony Stark didn’t seem to understand his dilemma.

It was both Steve and Tony’s off period, which meant they were monitors in the cafeteria for the time being. When the blond had relayed what had happened after the game yesterday, the chemistry teacher banged his fist on the table and proceeded to laugh.

Steve sat there, flustered. “ _What_? Would you quit laughing at me? It really isn’t all that funny, Stark.”

“’Course it’s not.” He flashed Steve one of his million dollar smiles. “But _damn_ , you took the opportunity and fucking _ran_ with it.”

He gave Tony a stern look. “Language.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Whatever. My point still got across. You saw the opening to make a move, and you did. You are _smooth_.”

Steve buried his face in his hands. “That’s what I was worried about. I think I may have overstepped my boundaries. He looked shocked when I suggested my side of the bet. Geez, that was stupid of me.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Tony insisted as he clapped Steve on the shoulder. The blond groaned, brooding in his seat. “I mean, if he had the balls to dish you out for coffee, then I’m sure he wouldn’t mind being dished out something of equal or greater value.”

“…I guess so.”

“Oh, c’mon, Rogers! Don’t give me that BS. The two of you were bound to ask each other out at one point.”

The bell had saved Steve from further embarrassment. He sarcastically wished that he and Tony had had more time to speak about his dilemma, however, the blond stated that he really had to run. Couldn’t be late for his sixth period AP Unites States history class, now, could he?

Tony had yelled something after him, however, Steve hadn’t heard him. The blond wound his way through the narrow halls, back to his classroom. A few students had been waiting outside the door when he arrived, as the door had been locked. Steve unlocked the door, and his students hurried to their seats. One of his students, Peter Parker (who was also on the baseball team), plopped down in his desk in the front. The brunet had eyed something on Steve’s desk. Peter pointed to _The Book Thief_.

“Did Mr. Barnes give that to you, Coach?” Peter asked.

Steve furrowed his brow. “He did…why?”

The brunet smirked. “I saw it on his desk ninth period yesterday. And, like, a couple minutes before the end of the period he said he had something to do, and he had that book in his hands.”

The history teacher eyed the boy for a moment. What was he getting at, exactly? Steve shrugged internally and blinked at Peter.

“Practice goes until five today, Parker,” Steve stated nonchalantly

“What?! Why? We don’t have another game until next Tuesday!”

“That’s true, but you also have another home game next Friday.” And boy, did he need to shape these boys up before then. Otherwise, a certain Mr. Barnes would not have the pleasure of taking him out to dinner.

* * *

Steve blew his whistle to signal the start of the running drills.

To be fair, the boys had started out strong. He had asked them to run two perimeters of the campus. About three quarters of the way through the first perimeter, however, they had started to lose steam.

Steve was running with them (albeit, he was ahead of them) when Peter wheezed from behind him. “Coach…are we…are we _really_ doing another perimeter? We usually…only do… _one_ of these damn things.”

The rest of his teammates muttered and cursed in agreement. Steve glanced over his shoulder, quirking an eyebrow at the boys. “Man up,” he stated. Then, he added as an afterthought: “Watch your language.”

The team responded in sporadic groans and mutterings of protest. They had managed to run the rest of the first perimeter and miraculously made their way through the second one. The boys all but collapsed when Steve had called out to them that they were finished. The only one who seemed as if he could go for another to perimeters was Pietro Maximoff, who had made himself known as a track star. Steve asked that they stretched out before diving into their other drills.

* * *

Bucky paused from grading tests when he heard the distant shriek of a whistle. He glanced out the window, smiling to himself. The disadvantage to the location of the garage was that it was _so_ far away from Steve’s history classroom. The advantage to the location of the garage was that it was _so_ close to the sports fields. More importantly, when he looked outside the window next to his desk, Bucky had a perfect view of the baseball diamond.

Had he purposely positioned his desk next to this particular window?

 _Maybe_.

When Bucky looked out the window, he saw Steve calling out instructions and pointers to the boys as they took their places, as if doing a scrimmage. The brunet scrunched up his brow. He was pretty sure that Steve had never done a scrimmage during practice. Like, _ever_. Sure, they had scrimmaged against other teams. But usually during regular practices after school, the blond had had them focus on one or two particular skills, like pitching and batting, or playing outfield and stealing bases. Bucky bit his lower lip in thought.

_“If the team wins the next home game, then you have to take me out to dinner.”_

He nearly flung his red pen across the spacious room in realization. He didn’t, but he did drop it suddenly. Was Steve pushing the team just for the sake of them winning, or was he pushing them to win so that Bucky would take him out to dinner? The brunet bit the inside of his cheek as he blushed.

What was the big deal anyway? Even if the team _lost_ Steve still scored a date with Bucky anyways. It was a win-win bet. Why was he making his poor team suffer through extra drills?

Bucky chuckled to himself. Because Steve loved challenges and bets and competitions; he refused to lose (if he could help it). He constantly got mixed up in bets with Tony Stark; the blond usually won. Bucky wasn’t so sure how this bet would end up. If the team somehow miraculously won, the brunet would be in a sticky situation as he didn’t really have anything nice enough to wear out to dinner.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on grading his class’s test anymore, so he scooped them up and threw them in a folder. Bucky tucked it under his arm and got up to leave. When he crossed the threshold of the door he nearly jumped out of his skin due to Natasha Romanov standing right outside.

“Jesus, Nat,” Bucky breathed as he clutched his chest. “Don’t scare me like that, I nearly had a heart attack.”

The redhead stared at him as if she hadn’t heard him. She spoke as if she hadn’t heard him either. “Steve was talking about you earlier.”

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. That could’ve meant a whole lot of things; Steve could have talked highly of him, or badly of him. The brunet found the latter hard to come across; Steve was the literal embodiment of a golden retriever puppy. But what was it that the blond could’ve said about him? Did he even want to know?

“What’d he say?” Bucky asked cautiously.

Nat smirked. _Oh no_ , Bucky worried internally. “He was talking with Stark earlier, and he had said that Steve was worried about some bet you guys made; something about ‘overstepping personal space’ or something.”

The brunet chuckled and bit his lip to keep himself from bursting into a fit of laughter. Of course only Steve would worry about something like that. Bucky ended up laughing out loud. Leave it to Steve to worry about the little things.

Natasha quirked an eyebrow in questioning. “I really don’t understand what you find so hilarious. Your potential boyfriend slash potential husband was worried about being too personal. Isn’t that a little concerning?”

“Maybe something related to a personal issue ruined his last relationship; how should I know?” Bucky inquired as he and Natasha started walking out of the building together. “Besides, Nat, I’ve never actually been on a date with him before, unless you want to count all the times I go to his classroom to give him a book.”

She shrugged. “What was this bet you made with him?”

He felt the color rise to his cheeks. “I bet that if the baseball team loses their next home game, that he’d have to take me out for coffee. And he bet that if they won, I’d have to take him out to dinner.”

“Well, I know what you’re getting next weekend, and it’s not getting laid,” Natasha huffed. Bucky choked on his own spit as he processed her words. “Coffee, Bucky, really? That’s the best you could come up with?”

The pair had made it outside to one of the side entrances. Bucky pulled out his keys and held his arms out as if in defeat. “To be fair, I sorta panicked. Don’t tell me you’ve never panicked when talking to Clint.”

Nat’s eyes went wide in surprise, although nothing else in her expression portrayed this. She opened her mouth to say something, closed it, opened it again with her finger held up in objection, and closed it again in a tight line. She scowled. “You win this round, Barnes.”

He smirked. “When do I not?” And without letting her quip back, Bucky sat himself in the driver’s seat of his car and brought the engine to life. He sarcastically waved to Natasha as he drove past her, the redhead’s arms crossed over her chest. The brunet smirked in triumph.

On his way out, Bucky drove past the baseball diamond, and slowed so that he wouldn’t _fucking crash_ (he didn’t crash last time! He _almost_ did!) as he looked. Even from a distance, Bucky could see Steve standing with his hands on his hips as the boys did what looked like pitching and catching drills. He almost felt the urge to roll down the window to call out to the blond, to ask him something along the lines of giving him a ride home, but he fought it. It was only three thirty, and Bucky had heard that their practice would be running long today by one whining Peter Parker. The brunet, instead, drove away; trying—but miserably failing to—keep his eyes off the built blond.

Next Friday couldn’t come soon enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Home Game or, alternatively, How Many Superhero References Can I Make in One Chapter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm so surprised by all the feedback!! Thank you guys for keeping up and patiently waiting for the update!! <3

Steve doesn’t know how, but by some miracle the Marvelle Academy Avengers won their first game of the season.

Sad to say, it wasn’t a home game. It was an away game against the Gotham High Bats.

Despite this, Steve was ecstatic nonetheless. The team was too, as if their whooping and yelling wasn’t any indication. The blond wasn’t in the mood to give them a lecture about winning one but not winning them all, so he sat at the front of the bus on the way back to the school, contemplating whether or not he should send Bucky Barnes a message on their victory. He stared at his phone.

Peter Parker popped up in the seat behind him, staring over Steve’s shoulder. The brunet tilted his head at his coach.

“Whatcha doing there, Coach?” he asked and Steve knew him well enough to know that it wasn’t in innocence.

The blond quickly locked his phone and set it down in his lap. “Checking the time, Parker,” he blatantly lied. His phone felt like a heavy weight on his leg, and his mind kept screaming _just text him dammit._

“ _Riiight_ ,” Peter responded with a smirk. Without another word, he sank into his seat again.

Steve rolled his eyes. That kid was always in everyone’s business. He looked back at the phone in his lap, glaring daggers at it as if it was the bane of his existence. Steve picked it up again and unlocked it. He didn’t have any messages from a certain shaggy haired brunet, unfortunately. His thumb hovered over the conversation thread labeled “Bucky♥” (because clearly, Steve has the mind of a dumb, love-struck teenager). He debated with himself but ultimately ended up opening the thread and typing out a message before he backed out.

 

_[Sent to Bucky_ _♥_ _, 5:42 PM]  We won against the Bats! You should’ve seen it, it was a great game. ;)_

Steve regretted it about .2 seconds after the word _delivered_ popped up under the text bubble.

He embarrassedly shoved his phone in the pocket of his shorts and buried his face in his hands. The blond had barely any time to think about what he’d done when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Steve looked away from his phone as he unlocked it and opened up the message thread between him and Bucky. He was almost embarrassed at looking at his own stupid text. He wished he hadn’t sent it now. God dammit.

Steve looked at Bucky’s message regardless.

 

_[Received from Bucky_ _♥_ _, 5:42 PM] Too bad it wasn’t a home game! Maybe you’ll be in a winning streak now. If so, I have to find myself something to wear_

 

Bucky’s message was followed with a handful of flirty looking emojis, and Steve felt himself flush. He and the brunet continued to banter—can you even banter over text messages? Maybe it was more along the lines of flirting—as the bus neared the school. Steve probably looked just like another high school student as he stared smiling at his phone, tapping out messages.

The bus came to a stop outside of the boys’ locker room. The players got up from their seats and tried to push their way out, anxious to stretch out and move. As the boys got off the bus, Steve did a headcount to make sure that everyone was off. When everyone was, Steve made his way off, but not before thanking the bus driver. The boys were already shuffling towards the locker room. Steve slowed to a stop and pulled out his phone again.

 

_[Sent to Bucky_ _♥_ _, 6:01 PM]  Are you still at the school?_

Steve ran his free hand through his hair, a nervous habit he had. He stared silently at his phone as he awaited a response. A new text bubble appeared in the thread.

 

_[Received from Bucky_ _♥_ _, 6:02 PM] No, I left a few hours ago. Sorry I couldn’t congratulate you and the team in person_ _:(_

 

Steve’s heart fluttered at the little frowny face and a stupid grin cracked his features in two. He was too busy typing out a reply to Bucky to notice Peter Parker and Wade Wilson sneaking up on him. Steve felt a tap on his shoulder, and when he turned to look who it was, he felt his phone leave his hand.

The blond’s heart dropped into his stomach as he turned to see Wade with his phone in his hand. Wade waved the phone around. “Oooh, who’re ya texting, Coach?”

Steve flashed his eyes at Peter who was giggling. His blue eyes darted to the boy who had his phone. “C’mon, Wilson, just give it back to me please.”

Wade looked like he was considering it for a moment before he looked at the screen of Steve’s phone. Steve felt his soul leave his body. Peter scampered over to his friend, peering over the other boy’s shoulder. Steve started to make his way over to the two of them to snatch his phone back, but not before they had gotten a good look at the message thread.

Steve plucked his phone out of Wade’s hands. The younger blond did his best impressions of a puppy who had just been scolded. Peter, on the other hand, was grinning from ear to ear. Steve flushed as he shoved his phone in his pocket.

“I knew it!” Peter was laughing and all smiles. “Wade, our coach has a puppy dog crush on a certain Mr. Barnes.”

Steve dragged an exasperated hand down his face. “One day you boys will be the death of me.” He mumbled under his breath.

“Coach, not to be obnoxious or anything,” Peter started. “But I think everyone and their mother knows that you have a thing for Mr. Barnes.”

At this point, Steve buried his face in both of his hands, trying to conceal the red flush that had seeped into every part of his face. He groaned. “Am I really that obvious?”

Both boys made a gesture as if to say “sorta” or “maybe”. The history teacher ran his hands through his hair again, screwing it up even more. He started to mumble incoherently. Wade and Peter shared a look and then glanced back at their exasperated coach.

“Hey, uh, coach?” Peter started. “If it makes any difference, Wade and I won’t tell him. Or anyone for that matter.”

Wade furrowed his brow, puzzled, and looked at the brunet. “But didn’t you _just_ say that everyone and their mother knew—”

Peter smacked him upside the back of his head without changing expression. Wade yelped in pain and swatted at Peter’s shoulder and arm with both hands. Peter half-heartedly smacked at the blond’s arm while looking at his coach.

“I promise, he won’t hear a word of it.”

* * *

 

Friday came faster than Bucky realized it. Before he knew it, the bell signaling the end of ninth period rang, and he found himself making his way to the baseball diamond.

Bucky strode across the soccer field towards the bleachers. From across it, he saw Steve standing over his crouched team behind the cage. He looked like he was giving them a pep talk or something so he thought it best not to interrupt the moment. Besides, he would be able to talk to the blond after the game (hopefully). The brunet turned towards the bleachers, hiked up to the top bench, and took a seat. He was one of the only people sitting in the bleachers, along with what looked like two pairs of parents. He watched as the team broke up to take practicing positions.

However, Bucky noticed that two of the boys on the team hung back for a moment near the cage. They were looking over at the bleachers as if in some sort of trance. Bucky was pretty sure one of them was Peter Parker and that the other one was the blond he always saw with him in the cafeteria—Wade, was his name? Anyways, the two boys were staring at the stands, and then quickly whipped their heads around to face their coach. Wade extended his arm with his finger pointed in the direction of he stands, his voice loudly echoing across the field. Bucky was too far away to clearly hear what the boy was saying, but Bucky did catch “Coach” and “your boyfriend”. Peter smacked the other boy in the shoulder as Steve froze in his place. Bucky bit his lower lip to keep from laughing out loud. He covered his mouth with one hand and waved at the three of them with his other hand. Wade looked at his coach, said something to him, then looked back at the stands again, and pointed at Bucky this time. After a moment, Steve buried his face in one hand and waved back at Bucky with the other.

After Steve got over his embarrassment, he barked at the two boys to go practice. They scrambled to get in their positions. Not long after, the bus carrying the opposing team arrived. Bucky couldn’t tell what school they were from, but they looked like a damn good team if he ever saw one. They had almost twice the amount of boys as Marvelle had, and they all looked like track stars. Bucky guessed from the colors on their uniforms that they were the Keystone City High Flashes. He worried his lower lip; that wasn’t a good sign for Marvelle. The brunet knew that the Flashes had a record of ultimately annihilating the competition.

The game began after the Flashes got to have a few minutes to warm up. The opposing team was up to bat first, and Bucky sighed as they scored 3 runs before the Avengers were able to get them out. It was already off to a bad start.

Four innings later, and the Avengers seemed to be doing okay. They were only a few runs behind the Flashes (the score at that point was 3-5), but Bucky could see that Steve was tearing himself up over their inevitable loss. When he looked over at the blond coach, he was leaning his forehead against the chain-link cage with his fingers threaded through the openings, watching the game with wide eyes. Every now and then he would take his baseball cap off, card his finger through his hair nervously, and readjust the hat back on his head.

Bucky couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him; Steve looked like he was about to explode from all the stress he looked to be under. He also couldn’t help but feel as if some of the stress was partly his fault. Bucky _was_ the one to make the bet in the first place; but Steve couldn’t possibly harbor feelings for Bucky on a romantic level enough to stress him out over a stupid date, right?

The game ended five innings later, with a score of 5-8. The coaches shook hands and said farewells, and the little amount of people in the stands started to disperse. Bucky lingered on the stands for a moment, waiting for Steve to finishing speaking to the boys. After a few minutes, the team trudged to the locker room, leaving Steve by the cage. Bucky started walking towards him, smiling as he neared the blond.

Steve mustered up a tired smile. “Guess I owe you a coffee date, huh?”

“Guess so,” Bucky shrugged a shoulder, a dumb grin splitting the features of his face. “It’s too bad, I was looking forward to taking you out to dinner.”

The smile fell from Steve’s face, and he mumbled something like, “Yeah, me too.” The brunet slung his arm around the coach’s shoulder and playfully tapped it.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. The boys did a great job today,” he started. “I know it didn’t turn out like you wanted, but the upside is that we can still go out for coffee this weekend. Besides, I’d be up to take you out to dinner anytime; bet or no bet.”

Bucky really wished he’d shut up. He bit his lip as he watched Steve’s entire face go red, starting at his cheeks and going all the way up to the tips of his ears. Bucky felt himself flush too.

Steve gave a small, genuine smile this time. “I’ll take you up on that offer.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY COW I REALLY HAVEN'T BEEN WRITING??? I really do have a good excuse; I just finished my senior year of high school, graduated, went through some shit, and now here I am. I got the sudden urge to write fanfiction again, and I hope you all can forgive me for my leave of absence. I busted my ass cranking this chapter out; I had had it started, but have been working on it diligently for the past week or so. It's much longer than any chapters I'm used to writing, so I hope that makes up for my disappearance. Hope you guys are still keeping up with this and enjoy!! ^^

James Buchanan Barnes had the fashion sense of a fifteen year old middle class white boy. Meaning, he could probably go like, four days, wearing the same pair of jeans with the occasional change of his t-shirt. That, however, would not fly on his coffee date.

Bucky, standing in the t-shirt he slept in and a pair of boxers, glanced at the clock in his cramped bedroom; Steve would be picking him up in an hour or so, and the brunet was tearing his hair out over what to wear. Most of his jeans had oil stains on them, and the few pairs that didn’t, were ripped. Would Steve care if they were ripped or not? Probably not, but every minor problem seemed to be catastrophic to him. Bucky was really hoping all went well on this date, enough so that they could possibly go on another one. Okay, Bucky hoped that they could _start dating_ if this date was successful enough.

He continued to glare daggers at his array of jeans spread out over his bed. He grabbed a pair that was not stained and not really that ripped (only at the knees!), and pulled them up over his boxers. Bucky then threw off his t-shirt and narrowed his eyes at the closet.

Bucky only owned about 2 nice shirts; they were both dress shirts. He didn’t want to wear one of those, but he also didn’t want to go in just a plain t-shirt. He did, however, own quite a selection of flannel shirts. So Bucky tugged on a (clean, oil stain free) grey t-shirt and a red and black flannel. He looked himself over in the bathroom mirror and gave himself the okay. Bucky tied his hair back in a bun, leaving his bangs to fall in his face.

The brunet left the bathroom and stared at the clock in his tiny kitchen; Steve would be here any minute. He looked to the island in the kitchen to make sure the book he got the blond was there. It was. It was another World War Two era novel, and he hoped that Steve would like it (Bucky was 99 percent certain that he would). Bucky smiled to himself and thought that today would go great.

Then there was a knock at his door.

And his stomach dropped.

“B-be there in a minute!” Dammit, he stuttered. Bucky took a deep breath and grabbed the book off the island. He made his way to the door and took a second to prep himself before opening it. Bucky swung the door open and his eyebrows shot up.

Steve was standing on the other side of the doorway, a bouquet of lavender roses in his hand. The blond was sporting a dark blue leather jacket (that should’ve been _illegal_ it fit him so damn nice), a dark grey t-shirt, and a pair of light wash jeans. He ran his free hand through his blond locks, and Bucky saw that he was starting to go red in the face.

“I got these for you,” Steve mumbled under his breath, holding the bouquet out to Bucky. The brunet smiled and bit his lip, holding up the book he got for Steve. The blond’s face lit up in surprise.

“I’ll trade ya.”

The two of them exchanged their gifts, and Bucky narrowed his eyes at the bouquet in his hands. “I’m not sure if I even have a vase to put these in.”

“Well,” Steve started, doing that half smile of his. “Maybe you should get one, because I guarantee that there will be more where that came from.”

The gears in Bucky’s head turned as he processed what the blond had just said. He felt the heat rise in his face as he turned to gently place the bouquet on the counter behind him.

“Just take me out to this coffee shop already before my head explodes, Rogers,” Bucky mumbled as he moved past Steve into the hallway, closing the door behind him. The blond’s laugh echoed down the hallway, making Bucky’s stomach flutter. He really was completely unprepared for Steven Grant Rogers’ uncanny _adorableness_.

The two of them made their way down a few flights of stairs and out to Steve’s car. Bucky looked up and down the street, trying to guess which car was Steve’s. It was probably the grey station wagon to their right, because that’s the type of car he would peg Steve to have. But he didn’t want to just walk right up to it if he was wrong.

“Which one’s yours?” he asked Steve nonchalantly.

Steve was trying to suppress his grin, but it wasn’t really working, so he sort of looked like an idiot. A cute idiot. “This one.”

He had walked right up to a 1960 red Thunderbird and tapped the side of the car. Bucky looked at the blond in utter astonishment. The car was in great condition. It looked as if it were brand new (Steve must’ve paid a _fortune_ to have it restored). Bucky walked up to it, almost like he was in a trance, and ran his hand along the roof of the car. Steve was looking at him with that look of his, almost like he was a kid looking into a candy shop and grinning from ear to ear.

“You’re lying to me. This can’t be your car,” Bucky said after a moment.

Steve held up his keys. “Oh, but it is.”

Bucky shook his head and smiled. The damn bastard was using the car to impress him. And hell, was it working.

“How come I’ve never seen you drive this thing, like, ever?” Bucky asked. “This car is _gorgeous_.”

Steve shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t like driving it to the school because you know how the seniors drive; like idiots. So, I only really like to drive around in this when I’m off, or for special occasions.”

Steve Rogers was _killing_ Bucky with his obviousness _. I can’t believe this is the man I want to date, he’s so ridiculously beautiful and has great taste in cars_ , Bucky thought as he told Steve to just “take him out on this date already”.

* * *

Steve was having the time of his life on this coffee date.

And all he had to do was lose a bet.

Steve and Bucky picked a little booth in the corner of the little coffee shop. The shop itself was quiet, and that’s why Steve picked it. Not only was it a nice shop, it also wasn’t constantly over crowded like the Starbucks around the corner from the school. People came and went, some college kids set up their laptops and ordered several espresso drinks. Steve loved it. And he knew Bucky would love it too.

So, the two of them ordered drinks (which Steve paid for, since it was part of the bet. Bucky nearly forgot and almost insisted that he paid) and sat down in the little booth. Bucky had his mug encircled by his hands, staring down into it with a soft smile. Steve couldn’t help but continue to just admire him; Bucky’s dark hair was pulled back into a loose knot at the back of his head, his bangs hanging loosely and framing his face. He had stubble on his cheeks, like he hadn’t shaved in a few days, but Steve was into it— _really_ into it. Bucky was wearing a simple flannel over a t-shirt, both of which were a little tight around his well-muscled shoulders that made Steve bite his lower lip. Steve’s eyes traveled higher to Bucky’s lips and thought just how kissable they looked, and how it was such a shame that he wasn’t kissing them _right now_. His eyes traveled higher to find that Bucky’s ice blue eyes were looking directly into his; he had been caught staring.

Steve shook his head to clear his mind _. Don’t get caught up, this is only the_ first _date._ “Sorry, I—you’re just…y-you look really good is all.”

 _Smooth, Rogers_. Steve wanted to bash his head into a wall.

Bucky smiled and tried to hide it behind his hand. It didn’t work very well. Steve could hear him chuckling.

“You know Natasha, right? Teaches AP psychology?” Bucky started. Steve didn’t know what this had to do with anything, but he nodded. He knew vaguely of the scary-looking, Russian redhead that terrorized the psych students. Tony had said she was a real piece of work.

Bucky continued. “She told me you were talking about me to Stark the other day. I didn’t ask her to give me updates on you, trust me, but she told me you wouldn’t shut up about your dilemma with our bet.”

“Well, I mean—” Steve didn’t really know what to say. He never knew how obvious he was when it came to this sort of stuff. Steve felt his face flush. “I was just nervous because I thought maybe my side of the bet was too much. You had only suggested coffee, and suggesting a dinner date seemed really pushy and out of bounds of the bet—”

Bucky interrupted him. “You know, Steve, bet or no bet…I would’ve loved to have taken you out anyways.” He paused for a moment and played with a strand of his bangs. “You really don’t know how long I’ve been dying to ask you out. Like, all those books I bought for you? Just excuses to come talk to you. The only way I felt I could ask you out was a wager. I know how much you love competitions and bets, so I took the opportunity.”

Steve went to twist the ring he usually wore on his finger (a nervous habit of his) but it wasn’t there. He remembered he had left it in his back with his gear for practice in his other car. He played with his hands instead before replying. “I’ve liked you for a really long time too, Buck. Trust me, there were so many times that I thought of asking you out, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to start dating again.”

Steve realized he had said a bit too much, and he really hoped the brunet sitting across from him wouldn’t prod too deep, or at all for that matter. Bucky looked him dead in the eyes, his brow scrunched up. Bucky must’ve read the situation (either that, or he saw Steve’s shoulders tense up, his hands curl into tight fists) and chose to let it go.

“I don’t want to rush into anything,” Bucky said at last. It made Steve relax a little. The blond reached for his hand across the table, rested it on Bucky’s, as if to tell him thanks.

The two of them sat in the coffee shop for a while, talking about nothing and everything at the same time. Steve learned that Bucky had been working on cars ever since high school, and how much he loved taking things apart just to put them back together again. They talked about Steve’s car, what they were both like in high school, and what their parents were like. It felt like Steve had known Bucky his whole life, when they had only met a few years ago, when Bucky landed a teaching job at Marvelle Academy.

It wasn’t until around dinner time that Bucky said he should get back to his apartment, for he had projects to grade. At this, Steve remembered the stacks of tests and papers he had to grade, and he agreed that it would be best to get home. The pair left the coffee shop and into Steve’s Thunderbird.

Steve parked in front of Bucky’s apartment complex and looked at the brunet in the passenger’s seat. Steve was staring at his eyes, his lips, and then back to his eyes again. His heart was pounding. Before Bucky could get his hand on the door to get out, Steve leaned over, kissing Bucky lightly on the cheek. Then he realized what he did.

Steve’s face most likely turned an ungodly shade of red, from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He apologized, saying he didn’t know why he did that, and Bucky just laughed. The brunet then leaned over and kissed Steve on the cheek back. Steve’s brain broke.

“I’ll see you Monday, Cap.”

Steve couldn’t wait until Monday.

* * *

The weekend seemed to drag by for Steve. It felt like he hadn’t seen Bucky in ages. In reality, it had only been 56 hours and four minutes, but who was counting, right?

Steve currently had his ninth period AP United States history class doing book work. It was one of the few times of the year he assigned anything out of the ancient textbook—seriously, the things were nearly 20 years old. Did the school not have the funds to replace these things? It was ridiculous—and his classroom was nice and quiet. Quiet enough so that Steve could read one of the novels Bucky had given him.

Since their date on Friday afternoon, Steve had found the energy to tear through grading most of the document based question essays he had given his two sets of AP US kids, and had started grading the ones from his AP European history classes. He barely slept Friday night, as he was on such an adrenaline rush. Steve had finally gone out on a date with someone for the first time since Peggy, and it felt good. He smiled to himself as he read _The Book Thief_.

The bell for dismissal rang, and Steve bid his class a good afternoon. He stuck a post-it note on the page he was on, and corralled his papers into a few different folders. He picked up his duffel bag and headed in the direction of the gymnasium. Steve hummed under his breath and walked lightly through the hallways, shoulders squared, with a stupid smile on his face. He stopped in front of Bucky’s classroom; there was loud music playing from a speaker on his desk, and the brunet was hunched over his gradebook and little trinket looking things. Steve decided that maybe he would stop by after practice. Bucky looked busy.

Steve had changed into his cargo shorts, a red polo, and a pair of Nikes (which he would trade any day for his classroom attire). He tugged on his Marvelle Academy Avengers cap and snatched his clipboard from his bag. The blond then made his way outside to the baseball diamond, once again humming a random tune, the same stupid smile plastered on his features.

Peter watched as Coach Rogers emerged from the locker room with a bit of a bounce to his step. He had this almost out of character smile on his face, and he was humming. Peter scrunched up his eyebrows and elbowed Wade in the ribs.

“Coach Rogers seems…different.”

Wade took one look at their coach and rolled his eyes at Peter. “Uh _duh_ , Sherlock. What do you _think_ has him in such a good mood?”

Peter shrugged. “Mr. Barnes?”

Wade held up his index finger, as if to say _bingo._ His features were smug looking. “Coach Rogers obviously got laid.”

“You’re _gross_ , Wade!”

“Whaaaat, it’s a beautiful part of the circle of life!”

Peter hushed Wade as Steve got within earshot of the two of them. But Wade was whispering shit in his ear, like did Coach Rogers top or bottom? Was he loud? Was _Mr. Barnes_ loud? Peter wished he would _stop for Christ’s sake_ because he didn’t want the mental image of two of his favorite teachers sleeping together burned into his brain.

“What’s got you in such a good mood, coach?” Peter asked, to get Wade to stop asking him gross questions. “We just lost our last game. And we’re up against the Jump City Titans next week…”

Steve looked at his team. “What, I just can’t be in a good mood? And besides, Jump City isn’t all that great; besides, I’m proud of you boys, win or lose. I’m sure we could tie with them.”

The players exchanged confused and worried glances with each other. What had gotten into Coach Rogers that changed his whole outlook on winning and losing? Wade would probably answer that with “Mr. Barnes”. Peter’s face was burning because of the image that flashed behind his eyes.

He hated Wade.

After Steve called for attendance, he set the boys off on some drills. They were pretty basic running drills, just to get their blood pumping, and Peter expected that they would increase in difficulty.

Peter was wrong.

They didn’t do much else besides another scrimmage, but it felt much more relaxed than the last scrimmage they played against each other. Occasionally, Steve would call out pointers to the boys, almost with a dream-like look in his eyes. The coach almost got knocked upside the head with the ball more than once.

Peter was worried that if this kept up, they wouldn’t ever be able to win (or tie for that matter) with another team ever again.

* * *

James Buchanan Barnes was ecstatic.  

He couldn’t believe that Steven Grant Rogers had _actually_ went on a date with him, had _actually_ kissed him (only on the cheek, but it still counted!). And the prospect of another date with the beautiful blond history buff was definitely not a far-fetched idea. Bucky would be lying if he hadn’t thought about going on another date with Steve. Or another three dates. Or five. Bucky was just so happy that he could be himself with the blond; Bucky had always had trouble trying to sort out his romantic feelings for people. When he himself was in high school, he had dated only girls. He didn’t want his friends to think anything less of him because he wasn’t sexually (or romantically, for that matter) into chicks. None of those relationships ever worked.

Then he went away to college. Bucky totally dropped the act of pretending to be into girls, because he found that people in college didn’t really care who you had sex with. He was into hookups. It was exhilarating. He didn’t have any “relationships” that lasted longer than a month. Bucky had met Natasha in college, had quickly become friends with her. But she told him that hooking up with someone new every weekend wasn’t good for his health, mentally or physically.

So Bucky stopped with the hookups and the one night stands. He had had one serious relationship after graduating college, but that was about it. Every once in a while, he would hookup with someone he met through one of those dating apps. But those were short lived, and Bucky never saw any of them again after sleeping with them.

Bucky had a serious commitment problem, but he was hoping Steve would help him fix it.

With Steve, things were different.

And Bucky was happy that things were going his way for once.

Bucky was pulled out of his happy place and brought back to reality; his classroom door slammed shut behind one scary-looking Natasha Romanov, and his gradebook was out in front of him, projects to his right. Bucky looked up at the psychology teacher, turned his music down. She may have looked mad or annoyed, but he knew that that was Nat’s chronic resting bitch face. She couldn’t help it.

“What is it, Nat?” Bucky asked, no undertone of annoyance or teasing in his voice. The redhead quirked an eyebrow.

“Not gonna bitch about me barging in here? Who are you, and what have you done with the real James Barnes?” Natasha said dryly, her voice heavily laced with sarcasm. She looked at Bucky for a moment in silence, and her lip twitched up at the ends in an all-knowing smirk.

“Maybe I was wrong about what I said the other day.”

“Wrong about what?”

“About you not getting laid this weekend.”

Bucky coughed, surprised (but not really—more like caught off guard) and swatted at Nat. He missed. He buried his burning face in his hands. “Why must you assume that I’m in a good mood because you think Steve screwed me?”

Nat rolled her eyes as if it were an obvious answer. “Because that’s possibly the only thing on earth that could make you _this_ happy.”

Bucky stopped grading projects (which he wasn’t really even grading them—more like inspecting them and giving them a 90 or more. He was in such a good mood that he wanted to share that good mood with his students). He looked at Nat with a bitch face to rival hers.

“Nat, I’m not rushing into anything, even with Steve,” Bucky told her. “He said something about not being out and dating for a while, and I don’t want to push him into anything that he’s not ready for. And that _includes_ doing him.”

Nat looked at him. “You’re really serious about Steve, aren’t you?”

“Completely.”

Natasha smiled for a half a second, and then it was gone. “Alright, lover boy, I’ll see you at the faculty meeting later.”

* * *

Steve never really liked faculty meetings. Before, he had told himself that it was a chance to see Bucky, before the whole bet was a thing. Now it was an _even better_ excuse to see Bucky.

Steve was always early to these things, but he was surprised to find that Tony and his friend, Sam Wilson, were already there. Tony smirked at him and raised his eyebrows as Steve took a seat next to him.

“I was just telling Sam about that bet you had made with Mr. Barnes.” Tony’s expression was smug. Sam, on the other hand, looked mildly intrigued. Steve was just embarrassed.

Steve looked at Sam. “I swear, the two of us just went on a coffee date. Nothing. Else. Happened.”

“Haven’t you been eyeing him ever since he started teaching here a few years ago? You only just managed to go out with him? Over a _bet_?” Sam’s voice sounded incredulous.

Steve folded his arms across his chest. “It’s not like I knew he was into guys. You guys obviously wouldn’t know, but it’s hard for me to ask people out.”

“Especially when they’re hot, rugged auto-mechanic teachers who have a soft spot for hot, blond, history buffs like yourself,” Tony added nonchalantly. Steve buried his burning face in his hands; his friends were not helpful in the slightest.

Other teachers began to file in. Every time the door opened, Steve looked up, a hopeful glint in his eye. However, Bucky still hadn’t shown up. Steve pressed his lips together in a line, trying to suppress the frown that was fighting its way onto his features.

Nick Fury, the principal, walked towards the front of the room, and a sort of hush fell over the teachers. It was at this moment that one Bucky Barnes decided to slip into the room, trying to go for an unnoticeable entrance. He failed miserably, however. Every single pair of eyes was on the auto-mechanics teacher, most definitely including Steve’s blue eyes.

“Sorry, Fury,” Bucky mumbled as he slid into the seat next to Steve.

“Don’t let it happen again, or I’ll have your ass, Barnes,” Fury growled.

Tony snickered. “Steve’s already got it,” he whispered to the blond. Steve elbowed him hard without taking his eyes off of Bucky. And then the meeting began.

Steve wasn’t really paying attention to the words coming out of Fury’s mouth, because his mind was a little too occupied with Bucky holding his hand tightly under the table. Steve was smiling like an idiot, because seriously, two grown ass men holding hands under the table at a faculty meeting? What were they, kids? But Steve wasn’t complaining. The two of them kept looking at each other, as if speaking telepathically back and forth. Tony kept rolling his eyes at the two of them, but Steve didn’t care.

Steve only cared when _Fury_ rolled his eyes.

“Would the both of you _cut it out_ with the lovey dovey shit? I can’t concentrate with the both of y’all sitting there making goo-goo eyes at each other.”

There was a moment of silence that let the embarrassment seep into the two teachers before everyone in the room proceeded to _lose their shit_.

Tony leaned over to and told Steve between bouts of laughter, “C’mon, you really didn’t see this happening?”

The only one who wasn’t laughing was one of the gym teachers, Thor Odinson. He looked thoroughly confused.

“I do not get what all the laughter is about,” Thor semi-yelled over the laughter in the meeting room. Both Bucky and Steve seemed to relax. Until Bruce Banner, one of the physics teachers, leaned over and whispered to Thor what exactly had just happened. The laughter died when Thor’s eyes lit up, pleasantly surprised.

“CONGRATULATIONS, STEVEN AND JAMES!” The blond gym teacher practically screamed as soon as the last bit of laughter was silenced. Bucky slammed his head down on the table and groaned as laughter filled the room once more. Even Fury seemed to crack a smile. Steve was so god damn embarrassed, but he looked at Bucky, his head banging against the table, and he laughed a bit too. He looked quite adorable, flustered and all.

Maybe the teasing wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking of doing a chapter with just Peter and Wade, or maybe a very very very small side project with them as the main focus? Let me know what you guys think! :)

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found at xelaricthenobody on tumblr if you wanna shoot me a message! I don't bite, I promise! <3


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